Numbers of War
by MayContainInsanity
Summary: Where death only means another kill tally, how long can they hold out until the numbers become overwhelming.
1. Chapter 1

_**Numbers of War **_

_**Chapter One**_

_**I**_

To be born on Volantis meant only one thing, and that was to accept life as a number, a single number that was recorded in a data file buried so deep that no one knew it was there. On a planet of more than one-hundred and ninety billion, that is all anyone ever was, just a number. The only way to become more was to rise to control of one of the many merchant households that control the planets economy, or to become the Lord Governor, which in all reality meant being a puppet of the most dominate merchant house at the time.

Death was a constant and a person could die in an alleyway at any time just by taking a wrong turn and getting lost and no one would know for years. To survive living in the lowest levels of a Hive world meant learning to kill without remorse. Where at the highest levels of the city the planets curvature is noticeable, killing was only conducted in the form of massive business deals and money exchanges. Most of the kids who grow up on Volantis join one of the merchant militias or gangs. The probability of dying increased but paid well enough to afford a small hab-unit in one of the lower level spires of the Hive, a life considerably better than trying to live off the streets.

Among the many exports of the merchant houses to other planets in other systems weeks of travel away, Volantis as a planet is known for one export only, soldiers. Soldiers whose urban combat abilities is rivaled by no other in the entire Imperium. In an empire of a million words, to stand out from the rest is an accomplishment like no other. They may not be the super soldiers of the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, the Imperium's finest soldiers, but by far the men who join the ranks of the Volantis Imperial Guard tithe are still second to none.

An average year sees a draft of around five-hundred thousand and a volunteer influx of nearly one and a half million kids looking for either a way off the planet to escape their poor life or those just wanting to serve in the Imperial Guard. An organization of billions of soldiers who are at the front lines in the defense of the Imperium, who fight wars on countless battlefields across the galaxy, they are the hammer that smashes away the foes of the Imperium of Man.

The months of training in urban combat that a recruit goes through is what sets Volantis regiments apart. They are one of the few planets who train their soldier's specifically in urban combat situations and are the best among those. Aside from their training, the uniforms of Volantis regiments have instilled fear in their enemies even before the fighting has started. All matte black combat fatigues, full faced rebreather masks with eye ports that glowed red and black steel helmets with the Imperial Aquila, the double headed eagle the symbol of the Imperium, prominent on the front. Each set of helmets, rebreathers, and combat fatigues are manufactured in their million each year, entire sections of the hive cities are dedicated to their production; factories and manufacturing plants so large that it takes hours to cross from one side to the other. The constant clang and hiss of the metal presses cause many of the workers to lose their hearing, but without those men and women, the soldiers would have nothing. It is a sacrifice they make so that many more may live in relative safety.

A full regiment marching in their founding parade is an intimidating sight, fifty thousand faceless soldiers marching in unison alongside their Chimera armored personnel carriers. Every year Volantis deploys nearly forty regiments. The parades last for hours and are kilometers long; the power that is wielded is breathtaking and for someone to have seen a larger portion of the Imperium knows that Volantis is only a fraction of a percent of the power that the Imperium of Man holds. Among one of those thousands of faceless soldiers was Master Sergeant Augustus McKenzie.

_**II**_

It was the first clear night, the first time there wasn't any clouds of smoke in the sky, there had been in several months over the city of Mallovium. It made him wonder whether or not it was a sign of some type. He found the small silver icon that hung from his neck on a chain and gripped it in his hand, feeling the tips of the wings press into his palm. Hoping that the clear night was not a sign. There was some comfort in seeing the night sky, a comfort that he didn't understand until he first left Volantis where there was no night sky, just the rusty orange glow the smog gave off. Still he knew that tonight would be just like the past week, just this time they would be able to see without the use of glow flares.

He heard footsteps behind him, but he put them out of his mind. He knew who it was; and continued to look up at the sky through the giant hole that had consumed the roof of the building he was in.

The footsteps were getting louder and he realized that he would soon have to talk to Corporal Denniston. It wasn't that he didn't like Denniston; just that he always had a positive look on everything. Sometimes he admired Denniston for his always positive outlook, and most of the time he tolerated it. But tonight he just was not in the mood to engage in a conversation with him.

"Well, what do you think of that Sergeant McKenzie?" Said Denniston, his voice a little raspier and drier than it normally was.

"Think of what Denniston? The sky?"

"Yes sergeant. Seems like forever since we last saw the stars over this city."

"It is nice to see it again, but the light the moons give off could be a problem. I'm sure that you have other tasks to be doing Denniston, what did you want?"

"Nothing important Sir Just wanted to offer you a cup of caffeine. Second squad found what appeared to be a tea house or something a couple of nights ago and found some bags of Vimaslikian brew."

"Never could afford it back home. Hopefully, it is a good as I've heard. Thanks."

"Not a problem Sir." Denniston saluted and hurried off to complete whatever other task he had been assigned to do by the chief medic.

McKenzie took a sip of the caffeine. It was hot and a little too bitter for his tastes but it would do. It was infinitely better than the standard issue Imperial Guard caffeine brew that he had forced himself to drink on every other deployment. However, he savored it, though it wasn't to his liking, it was likely the last cup that he would ever have.

He put the cup down on a desk and looked out the window, or where a window used to be. The courtyard that expanded in front of him was littered with bodies, both Volantians and enemy, and the occasional destroyed tank still spat out dark smoke. McKenzie picked up the cup and took another sip. It wasn't as hot anymore but still very bitter.

"How did this happen?" muttered McKenzie under his breath, as he continued to look out the window. He put down the cup and placed his rebreather mask back on. The recycled air had the familiar sent of being machine scrubbed clean, but after twenty years of service in the Volantis 975th Mechanized Regiment, it was a smell that he was used to. The vision ports on the mask had both a magnification ability as well as a night vision setting. Zooming in on a building on the opposite side of the courtyard he could see enemy movement through the red haze of the night vision.

Five weeks ago they had almost captured the city, and now they could barely hang on to a few blocks around the Governors palace. It took them three months to clear and secure the outskirts and refinery districts of the city. Three months of hard fighting and the deaths of so many good soldiers. All that changed with a single bullet.

An enemy assassin had managed to slip through the Imperial lines and find his way to the central headquarters. Form there all he had to do was wait. Wait for the commanding general to walk into his sights, and one bullet was all he needed to change the course of the war.

McKenzie knew that the chain of command was fractured even before the assassination. There had been fights among the top commanders as to who was going to succeed the commanding general after his tour was finished. With the death of the general, the chain of command fell apart. No one knew who was in charge and nearly all of the orders sent out from command one day where counter acted the next. It was total chaos, and that is exactly what the enemy wanted.

By the time the news of the general's assassination reached McKenzie and the remnants of his platoon, it was too late. The enemy had already began their counter offensive and with no command to issue orders, the Imperial lines began to collapse and the gains that took three months where gone in a matter of days.

Within those few days the losses that the Imperial forces suffered was catastrophic. Out of the original fifty soldiers in McKenzie's platoon only twenty-six remained, counting himself. The losses in other units were similar. The surprise at which the enemy assault occurred caught many units off guard and by the time they were able to form an effective defense many had lost a quarter or more of their men.

The days following in the initial assault saw blocks of the city fall to enemy forces. In four days they had pushed Imperial forces within ten blocks of the governor's palace. Now they Imperial forces where only four blocks out and holding on with the nails on their fingers.

_**III**_

"INCOMING!" McKenzie heard a trooper on the floor above him yell. He wasn't sure who it was but it did not matter to him. There were several low thumps off in the distance and he knew that they were enemy mortars.

Instinctively McKenzie grabbed his lascarbine off the desk and ejected the current clip and slammed home a fresh one. He had no time to check if the previous one was fully charged or not, he would rather know he had a fresh clip then find himself out of ammunition when the enemy charge came.

He threw himself against the wall under the window and hunched down so that he could not see out it, he knew what was coming. A few seconds later the first mortar shells exploded only meters in front of his building in the courtyard. The enemy had underestimated the distance needed, they would not make the same mistake again, and the next barrage would hit his building.

"KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN AND FIND A WALL!" bellowed McKenzie to the troopers that were on the same floor. There were more thumps, the next barrage was incoming. The mortar shells impacted on the roof of the building and exploded creating more holes. He didn't know how many barrages the enemy would fire at their building but he was certain that they would charge the building regardless.

More thumps and more explosions, each lighting the courtyard with a blinding white light for only a fraction of a second. McKenzie hugged the wall as the mortar shells impacted around him, both in the courtyard and the roof. One shell fell through the hole in the roof and detonated on the floor above him. He heard the screams for a medic and hoped that Corporal Denniston would get there in time. The more soldiers that he had the easier it would be to defend the building.

Then it came, the one sound that McKenzie dreaded even more than the thumps of the mortar tubes. It was a whistle followed shortly after by a roar of dozens of enemy soldiers.

"GET READY! HERE THEY COME AGAIN!" Yelled McKenzie.

Activating the night vision on his vision visor he could see the enemy troops storming across the courtyard towards his building. They all looked the same through the red haze of the night vision. Their tattered and torn uniforms from dozens of different Guard regiments and Planetary Defense Forces from across the Imperium were covered in blood both fresh and dried for years. The soldiers resembled nothing of who they used to be, some were so scarred and mutilated that calling them human was a stretch. He knew that most of the mutilation was intentional and self-inflicted but McKenzie didn't care. What truly bothered him was the symbol that each of the enemy soldiers wore either in blood on their uniform or carved into the skin. The eight pointed star of Chaos, humanities most hated enemy in the galaxy.

Alive or dead they were the enemy and for him faces or what was left of them didn't matter. He came from a planet where growing up he was only a number even his own regiment the 975th all wore rebreather masks most of the time, the only distinctive markings where on the uniforms, mainly rank insignias or nick-names scratched on to helmets. McKenzie felt no remorse for killing his foe, it was his sworn duty to eradicate Chaos where it was found and to him they were just numbers that is all anyone was to him, just a number.

On the floor above the repeating boom of the platoons remaining heavy bolter began, throwing massive fist-sized explosive shells into the courtyard. McKenzie saw several enemy soldiers get hit and watched as the shells detonated inside them, showering those near him in his intestines and other internal organs that where now in small chunks. Still they pushed on towards the building McKenzie and his platoon were in.

As the enemy charge came closer the distinctive snap-crack of lasgun fire began. The troopers on the upper levels had opened fire on the advancing soldiers. They had held this one building for the past week and McKenzie had lost count of the number of times the enemy tried to break through here. The courtyard was too open to cross without taking staggering casualties, still the enemy tried. The buildings on the flanks of the courtyard were too dangerous to advance through, either way McKenzie knew that the enemy soldiers would die trying.

He began to open fire with his lascarbine and saw three of his shots hit their targets. The enemy had also opened fire on the building and las-shots were impacting the masonry in sporadic bursts. They seemed to not even be aiming their shots because most went wide or did not even hit the building. Still, a few shots hit their mark and one of McKenzie's soldiers was hit in the head and died instantly, pieces of skull and brain splattering out on the floor below him.

McKenzie fired off more shots which cause two enemy soldiers to dive for cover behind a burned out Chimera hull. The enemy charge was faltering and most of them were dead, the few that remained were finding cover were ever they could. Shots were still being exchanged but neither side was able to hit anything.

There was a whoosh of air and then flame as a trooper on the ground floor fired his flamer into a group of enemy soldiers who had managed to close the distance from the Chimera to the building. They were engulfed in the flames and were incinerated instantly. Their screams of agony filled the courtyard and then died along with the soldiers.

The enemy assault had failed and the remaining soldiers in the courtyard faced death no matter what they chose. If the retreated back to their side of the courtyard they would be shot by their own commanders for retreating and if they charged McKenzie's position they would be cut down. Those that remained chose the latter and ran towards the Imperial building not even firing their weapons. The boom of the heavy bolter started up again and the enemy soldiers were cut down after only taking a few steps. With that, the charge was over and the courtyard descended into darkness and silence once again

_**IV**_

There was a low rumbling in the distance but McKenzie paid no attention to it. Dawn was breaking over the courtyard, the light filling every nook and cranny. He took off his rebreather mask and took in a gulp of the air. It had the taste of masonry and rotting and burnt flesh but it didn't bother McKenzie enough to put the mask back one, it was a smell that he had come to expect where ever he went.

The nights fighting left dozens of the enemy dead and McKenzie had lost three of his own and found that ten more were wounded. He was content with the figures but hoping that when the enemy attacked again they would be able to hold the line. The rumbling was growing louder and McKenzie began to wonder what it was.

"Anyone have a visual contact with whatever is causing that noise?" McKenzie inquired into his micro-comm.

"Negative contact" replied a trooper

"Negative Sir" said Denniston

"Possible visual contact with enemy armor" A voice said over the comm-piece. It was the platoons' only remaining sniper who was on the roof.

"Where are they heading?" Ask McKenzie.

"Moving to the west Sir, but I've lost contact with them." Replied the sniper.

"Keep your eyes open for them; we'll be in trouble if they flank us." McKenzie said.

"Will do Sir, I'll let you know if I spot then again." The sniper said.

A few hours pasted since the initial sightings of the enemy tanks. The rumbling of the tanks grew and died several times which meant that there must be more than one tank with a few blocks of their position. McKenzie had not heard the thump of mortars or the blow of a whistle so the enemy must still be preparing for the assault. However, what bother McKenzie was that he had no idea of where the assault would happen. Would it be a general assault across the whole of the Imperial lines or was it going to be focused in one section of the line? He would hold this building regardless of where an attack came.

Without any warning the building on the opposite side of the courtyard that was acting as the enemy's strong hold exploded and collapsed showering the entire courtyard with rock and debris. A giant cloud of dust rose into the air and the troopers around McKenzie all grabbed for their guns. Through the cloud of dust he could hear the roar of heavy engines and the creak of metal tank treads moving.

McKenzie could begin to see the tanks emerging through the cloud followed be enemy infantry close behind. The tanks were Hunters, low to the ground; the soldiers following behind were barely concealed. They lacked a turret and the main cannon was fixed to the front hull. What they lacked in visibility they made up in stealth. There were three tanks and at least fifty enemy soldiers advancing towards the building. The tanks opened fire and all three shots hit the building. Two exploded on the top floor and one a few meters to the left of McKenzie on the second floor.

Another boom from the tanks as three more shells flew at the crumbling building. One impacted right below McKenzie and threw him back into the building. Darkness began to fill his eyes and he knew that he was hit but couldn't move. More explosions and gunfire echoed around him, but the darkness still held its grip. The noise was fading away from McKenzie but gunfire and the screams of soldiers filled his ears but were muffled. The last thing that he heard was the scream of falling metal and a ground shaking impact. Then there was nothing but silence and darkness once again.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I**_

As the sun was beginning to set over the courtyard the sounds of fighting could be heard in the distance, however, it was much farther in the distance than Corporal Denniston could remember in the last two weeks. He did not pay close attention to it since he was the only medic in McKenzie's platoon and there was much more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. No one who survived the last assault managed to get by without some wound or injury including him. A large chunk of masonry fell on him and dislocated his left shoulder as well as broke six bones that Denniston was aware of. Regardless he continued on treated the other wounded first. Of the twelve remaining, five had either lasgun or shrapnel wounds and two had lost a limb. The last five had only cuts and bruises including Sergeant McKenzie who was still unconscious against the back wall.

Denniston was in pain but did not see to himself until all the others were stabilized first. His entire left arm was numb and he knew that was not a good sign and he feared it was too late to save it. He sighed, it would not be his first mechanical limb and it seemed to him that his whole left side was becoming mechanical. He lost his left leg several years ago when he opened a door that was wired with explosives. It would take time but he would get used to the arm when it came. The fingers would bother him the most as the lacked the subtle dexterity of actual ones but only just. He was alive and that is all that mattered to him. He placed his arm in the sling he had just made and began to check on the others again. Some needed another unit of pain suppressor while others were dangerously low on fluids still. He doubted that those would last much longer unless they were transported to the field hospital within the hour. There was only one hospital left and he knew that it would be total chaos right now and getting those men there would be just as chaotic. He would do what he could for them here since they were all likely to be pulled off the main line anyway.

The building was still standing and he was surprised at that. It was no longer recognizable to what it looked like when they first took up positions in it weeks ago. How much longer it would stay standing was anybody's guess. Light from the rapidly setting sun was shining through holes that spanned three floors. The beauty of the city was all but gone; very few places were left unscathed by the fighting. They would be off this planet soon and back aboard a ship heading to wherever.

"Hey! Doc!" Shouted one of the troopers from a window. Denniston could not tell who it was though.

"McKenzie is awake! You better come check him!" The trooper shouted again.

He had not realized how far into the court yard he had wandered, or the fact that he left the building in the first place. His thoughts were wandering, still not able to believe what had happened before and that he survived. He pushed the thoughts away and hurried back to the building. Taking the stairs in twos he reached the third floor where McKenzie and the remainder of the platoon were. Coming into the room, McKenzie was standing up but leaning against the wall for support. His rebreather mask was off, too damaged by the explosion that knocked him out.

"What the hell happened?" McKenzie said with a mixture of confusion and his usually stern command.

"See for yourself sir. You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Replied Denniston with a hint of excitement and awe.

_**II**_

Coming to the edge of the building and looking out over the court yard McKenzie knew instantly why Denniston was acting like a child.

"How many were there?" Asked McKenzie.

"Three, maybe four of them." Excitement still finding its way into Denniston's voice.

"Always the show stealers, but this time I'm thankful for it." Said McKenzie with an odd mixture of relief and what seemed like jealousy to Denniston.

What lay before McKenzie and the remnants of his platoon did not faze him, like it did to some of the others. It was not the first time he had seen something like this and the doubted it would be the last. However, it was quite clear to McKenzie that this was the first time Denniston had seen the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, in action.

As he watched over the court yard in the fading light he could hear Corporal Denniston and a few others who had never seen the Space Marines before recalling what they had seen like over excited school children receiving gifts on Ascension Day. It calmed McKenzie to see his men in such good spirits given the extent of some of their wounds. He was also amused, but did not show it, to see such professional soldiers and killers with the excitement of children.

The carnage that was left over in the court yard was the worst it had been since they took up defending it. The Marines drop-pod, which was launched from their cruiser in orbit, slammed onto the center tank and completely flattened it. The other two tanks did not last much longer either McKenzie thought. Walking down to the destroyed tanks to get a better look at them, he could not help to feel some amazement at the Marines abilities. One of the tanks had a melta bomb strapped to its side. The crew was dead in seconds as the tanks armor super-heated and liquefied around them. He could see bits of charred body parts as he looked into the tank.

The last tank impressed McKenzie very much. This one was not taken out by any explosive or melta charge. Instead the tanks side plating was torn open like a bag and the crew ripped out from inside. He imagined the crew was too stunned to react as a giant armored fist was dragging one of them out through the side of the tank. The rest of the court yard was littered with bodies as the Marines tore through the infantry after the tanks were destroyed. It would have all happened in a matter of minutes if not less which made him realize that he had been unconscious for some time.

With that his thoughts returned to the situation at hand. There had been no mention of contact or communications with headquarters that he was told about when he came to. If they had a working vox unit then perhaps some clarification could be made and the remnants of his platoon be put to better use somewhere else. For all McKenzie knew what was left of his platoon might be all that was left of the 975th. They had landed on the planet already under strength and the past weeks fighting and the mornings attack made it a very good possibility.

_**III**_

"Noting but static Sarge." Trooper Brennus said frustratingly. "I'll get a bit here and there, but nothing stable. Something's fucking up the signal somewhere."

Brennus was the only surviving vox operator left in the platoon. How he became an operator baffled McKenzie, at times simple tasks such as opening a hatch or loading his lasgun seemed to stump Brennus. His bouts of dullness aside, he was very determined in whatever task he was focused on and occasionally surprised everyone with sparks of ingenuity.

"Let me know if you get anything right away." The sternness in McKenzie's voice startled Brennus a little and made him quickly look back down to the vox unit and turning its dials.

"We can't stay here much longer. If we don't hear anything within the hour then we make our way to headquarters." McKenzie said addressing everyone in the room.

"And if we hear something before that?" Brennus asked.

"If it's an order we'll follow it. Until then keep your guard up, we don't know what's happening out there." Irritation was dominant in his voice but still kept calm. "Oh, and Gros, find us a way out of here."

"Yes Sergeant." Came the almost whispered reply from Grosvenor.

Grosvenor was the platoon's sniper and for all other reasons their scout as well. He kept to himself most of the time and was quiet when he was around others. McKenzie had, in his twenty years of service, never encountered someone with as much patience and making him wonder if he was formerly an assassin. What really set him apart from the other snipers was his choice of weapon. While most snipers used a long las the sniper variant of the lasgun, Gros lugged around something much bigger, an Atom ripper rifle. Able to hit a target at nearly three thousand meters and able to pierce armor at ranges under twelve hundred meters the melta cored round will obliterate any fleshy target. It was an odd choice for a soldier trained in urban combat where bulky weapons are unwieldy, but its range and penetrating power are second to none.

McKenzie let the group go about their business and walked back over to the window looking out over the courtyard. The sounds of fighting were just as intense but even further away now. Clouds had rolled in and the sky was no longer visible and the temperature was falling quickly.

Making his way up to the roof where Grosvenor was he could see much more of the city. Flashes from explosions lit up in the distance all around. He could not tell what was happening but he was sure that if the enemy was facing the Marines the city would be theirs by morning. The snow had begun to fall and was picking up fast. Looking to the outskirts of the city he could just barely make out the flare off from the promethium refineries. The whole reason they came to this place was to retake the refineries but something told him that they were just told that to keep the real reason they were here from them.

_**IV**_

_Planetary Deployment, Heavy Cruiser __Forbidden Revelation Orbiting Nahar II, Five Months Ago Standard._

Relieved to have finally found an empty corridor, Grosvenor let himself relax. He could never quite understand why he disliked being around crowds given that he grew up in a hive. The thought came and went as he we just happy to be alone. He was not quite sure where on the ship he was but when the time came he could find his way back without a problem. Ships were the closest to home that he could imagine, their cramped and dark corridors reminding him of Volantis.

Walking for some time he only encountered a few other people, mainly ship crew. His footsteps rattling the iron grated deck beneath him and so did anyone else's which gave him a heads up if anyone was coming. He would have to be back at his mustering area within a few hours to be ready for deployment to the surface, but he continued on further.

He passed a pair of men who were standing in the corridor against the wall. They were not crew members but had the look of soldiers; however, they did not have uniforms that matched any of the other regiments onboard. Grosvenor moved passed them unchallenged but could feel their eyes watching him closely as he walked on.

Ahead of him on his right there was hatch that led to a small room. The hatch was not completely closed and he could hear voices inside. As he neared the room the voices quieted as they must have heard him walking by. Whoever was in the room did not want him to overhear what they were talking about and Grosvenor guessed that the men he passed were on guard and were working for those in the room.

The light above him was flickering and caused the corridor to become pitch black for a few seconds. Long enough to make himself hidden. It was a skill that he relied on and had perfected, as a sniper he needed to be concealed most of the time and usually in enemy territory right at their feet. Climbing up the side of the corridor onto a pipe or duct of some kind he was in its shadow and out of sight from anyone passing by.

The voices picked up again once they were confident that they were alone and given the all clear by their men who had come down the corridor a few moments after he passed the room.

"The trail leads here." One of the voices said.

"I know it does, but they will know that we are on their tails. For all we know this is a trap." Another voice said.

"The main assault will be on the opposite side of the planet and will draw their attention there." A third voice spoke up, much deeper and authoritative than the other two, whoever this man was, he was clearly in charge.

"If we run into trouble then we won't have any support." The first voice speaking again.

"I doubt we will run into any trouble that we can't handle." The deep voice said reassuringly.

"The Guard units will be deploying soon and we don't want to draw attention to ourselves." The second voice interrupted.

"Very well then, head back to your rooms and stay there until I call for you." The man in charge said.

With that, the three men left the room and were followed shortly after by the two men down the corridor. Grosvenor waited for several minutes before letting himself back down to the floor. He had not gotten a good look at the men in the room but decided that it was in his best interest to head back to his unit. Once he got back he would let Sergeant McKenzie know what he had overheard. Not that there was anything either of them could do about it now but the more they knew about what was going on, the better chance they had of being out of the way if things went bad quickly.


End file.
